


Senseless

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Mycroft is in resigned outrage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:57:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: Mycroft was fuming.A little something I posted on Tumblr on the 1st June





	Senseless

Mycroft was fuming.

 

Greg came home from work and shouted a “Honey, I’m home!” down the hallway with no response from his other half. He knew the man was in because he had messaged him to say he would be home first and it wasn’t like Mycroft to lie.

So, concerned, he kicked off his shoes and continued down the hallway to the living room. The top of Mycroft’s head could be seen over the top of the couch. “Hiya, love.” Greg tried again. Maybe Mycroft hadn’t heard him the first time, caught up in his thoughts.

There was still no reply.

“Mycroft?” Greg walked across the room and around the couch so he could see his husband properly.

Mycroft was awake. He was aware. He was pouting.

Shit.

Mycroft was fuming.

“What’s the matter, love? Something happen at work?” Greg knew Mycroft wouldn’t talk about the details, but if it was something to do with work they had made an agreement to be slightly more open. Especially if it brought The Pout™.

Mycroft rolled his head across the back of the couch until he was looking at Greg and furrowed his brow. “No. Not work.” He finally answered. Greg nodded in acknowledgement but was still confused.

“What has you all moody, then? Sherlock been ‘round?” He ventured a guess, though he knew Sherlock had been with him today anything was possible.

“No.”

“Okay…” Greg dragged out the word, hinting that he needed more information.

The other man huffed a reserved sigh and slouched further as he mumbled something unintelligible. Mycroft never mumbled.

Double shit.

“What was that, love?”

Mycroft gave him a look and shook his head.

“Did someone die?”

“No.”

“Does your mother want you to take her to another show?”

“No.”

“Did I forget to pick up my dirty underwear?”

Mycroft twitched a small smile, but only momentarily. “No.”

“Did Anthea kick you out of the office again?”

“No.”

“Did a politician say something you told them not to?”

“Daily. However, not the cause of my anguish.”

“Then I’m out of guesses. You’ve got to help me out here, Myc.”

Mycroft sighed again and made eye contact with Greg for a moment before quickly looking away again. “They cancelled Sense8.”

Greg stared.

Greg stood.

Greg threw his arms in the air.

“Bastards!”


End file.
